


The Hunt

by ReceiverofWisdom



Category: Claymore, Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: F/F, I like videogame AUs, I liked this a lot so might as well post it, Tumblr Prompt, spoiler alert for the end: it's her face
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-12
Updated: 2016-12-12
Packaged: 2018-09-08 01:41:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,356
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8825179
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ReceiverofWisdom/pseuds/ReceiverofWisdom
Summary: Flora can't seem to escape her.





	

The beast writhes beneath her, suffocating on its own blood, desperate to clear its airways, sinking its talons into the back of its mane even as the warrior above it shoves the blade further in, and jerks it to the side, severing the spinal cord and rendering it motionless. A final flick of its wicked tail is all it can manage.

Flora almost feels guilty, slaying a beast as gorgeous and renown as a royal Griffon. It is massive, over three times the size that she is, with extensive broad wings and a dark shimmering mane of surprisingly soft feathers. It put up a remarkable fight, and it took her a day to track it down. Her gelding comes back to her, nose dripping from the physical exertion it put into pursuing the creature, and she soothes it with strokes to its sweaty neck before stooping to study the Griffon.

Its cheeks are sunken behind the thick beak, an eye blinded, no doubt by a confrontation much earlier in its life. She grabs a hairy paw bigger than her head and peers beneath the talons, inhaling deeply, scenting. Human blood and chunks of dirty skin, two days old. The talons are worn, the pads on its paws scathed and dry.

Certainly the one that had been plaguing five local villages. Its head will bring in a lovely sack of gold.

She rights herself, takes a deep breath while running her fingers through her mussed hair, and presses her boot into the side of the Griffon’s neck. It twitches, taking her off guard. She raises her claymore, ready to sink it back into the side of the beast’s neck, but stops and cocks her ears when her horse whickers. She jerks her head to the side, greeted with the sight of another warrior.

Flora schools her expression into complacence, betraying the wariness and apprehension filling her stomach. She even smiles.

”Hello there.”

Ophelia smiles widely, showing her teeth a little, looking positively gleeful, and prances over.

Flora’s stomach churns. How had she not noticed the other’s presence before hand?

”Hello! What a superb beast you have there! Absolutely massive. Just look at that beak! Perfectly designed to pierce the skulls of its prey.” Ophelia is without boundaries. This is not new. She prances up to Flora’s kill as if it’s her own prize, and sinks her fingers between the edges of the maw to open the creature’s mouth, looking inside. “Ah. It’s still alive.” Her silver eyes flick up to Flora, and she smiles a little more, eyes crinkling. “I didn’t expect such cruelty from you.”

”It…” Flora glances at the Griffin for a moment. “She, was ready to throw me off. I meant to hit the back of her head. She won’t suffer long.” The bones and muscle of a Royal Griffon are thicker than most. She is not able to quickly separate its head from its neck. She digs the Claymore back into the side of the predator’s neck, and uses her strength to jerk the weapon and break through bone and sinew and flesh alike. 

Her airy tone and brutish, quick movements are a clash that even Ophelia finds interesting.

”What has it been? Months? I don’t even get a hug, or an offer of ale? There are a lot of taverns in the area.”

Flora’s final movement is terse and direct. It is the final tug that fully severs the griffin’s head from its body, the final stroke that causes its life force to blink away. Flora doesn’t move to grab the prize immediately. She takes a moment to acknowledge the life the beast had lived, the life that the townsfolk paid her to eradicate, the life that was destined to ebb away the moment she passed her training decades ago.

Ophelia doesn’t care much for being ignored. She leans forward into Flora’s line of sight, tapping her foot against the griffin’s head. “Come now. You’ve finished your job. It would be a shame if you were to simply pack up and move on.”

”I have been given a time limit for this task,” Flora replies calmly, moving to pick the head up.

Ophelia intercepts her with a grab to the wrist, pushing her arm upwards and placing herself inbetween Flora and the Griffin.

When the other breathes, Flora can feel the tickle of breath on her face, and scrunches her nose a little.

”I doubt it. I saw the flier requesting its head. How long have you been in pursuit? Days? Surprised? Your horse’s state gives you away.”

When she turns her head to glance at the gelding, several yards away standing near the treeline, Ophelia leans forward and presses her face into the side of Flora’s neck.

It causes the latter to go rigid. Her heart quickens, and a shameful shiver slides along her back. She can feel Ophelia smile against her neck, and gains the sudden urge to kick her in the shin.

”Was our last encounter really so bad?” She coos. 

Flora knows how this game is played. She withholds a sigh, and reflects on the fact that it would not be in her favor to play along. “No,” she whispers, so softly, that Ophelia pulls away, just to regard her curiously. It is the first time Flora has seen the warrior express even a little bit of uncertainty. And she is very quick to swipe it under the rug.

A blank canvas of an expression is oddly unbecoming, she thinks.

She dips forward, and pecks the other on the lips. They’re pleasantly soft, if not a little chapped, and she wants to linger, but there is much more of a reward in pulling away.

Ophelia’s cheeks are pink, her pupils wide.

Her banter is exhausting, but this, Flora misses. She manages to slide her wrist from the other’s grip, further down, and entwines their fingers together. Flora drops her arm, takes the other warrior’s arm with her, and pulls her in closer. The volatile, snarling wolves at the end of their chains around their necks clink together. She has to stand on her toes a little, but she manages to meet the other’s stare head on, unabashed. From there, she can hear Ophelia’s heartbeat quicken, the way she inhales and holds her breath, and slowly lets it out.

To think she had been the one so fearful of her breath, so apprehensive of allowing the pattern of her heart to beat. It is both concerning and exhilarating that she, of all people, can have this effect on Ophelia after so many months apart. Neglect months, she thought it not possible in a lifetime.

She tries not to be smug about it. She boops their noses together, and goes to pull away, but Ophelia holds tight, looking more serious than Flora ever recalls seeing her.

It does not last. Before Flora can utter a word, Ophelia ducks down, hooks her arm around the back of her comrade’s thighs, and hoists her up. 

Flora flails a little, undignified, and grapples onto the other Claymore’s shoulders. Her breath comes out in an airy huff.

Ophelia laughs at her gaping expression, and stoops again to grab the back of the griffon’s mane. She carries the both of them easily, and turns on her heel back towards Flora’s gelding, who flares his nose and cocks his ears forward. His lips tremble in anxiousness. She is a foreign presence. Her gelding’s cautiousness has saved her more times than she can count.

When Ophelia approaches however, he only takes a single step back and she drops the griffon’s head beside the gelding, patting his light flank. He lowers his head, and seems at ease. If nothing more, he is concerned by the predator’s gored head sitting beside him. But it is not something new to him.

She drops Flora too, who huffs, regains her dignity.

”A fine horse. You won’t be riding him tonight, will you? You should stay in Bronzehill. The contract includes a free night at the inn there, if I recall. And I have a much more suitable mount for you tonight.”

**Author's Note:**

> give a kudos or comment they're always super appreciated! If you'd like to see more don't be shy


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